


it's easy being with you, sacred simplicity

by loveisalaserquest



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, completely gone for tasha as he should've been, emotionchip!data, here we have my son data being the love-sick puppy that he is, very gross and futile attempt at fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:39:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8085430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveisalaserquest/pseuds/loveisalaserquest
Summary: Data suffers a severe case of finding himself infatuated at first sight and accidentally replicating a symbol of lifelong commitment and then being unable to remove said symbol from his drawer for five years.





	

Data has known Tasha for a grand total of three hours when he asks the replicator for an engagement ring. He chalks it up to being overwhelmed by the welcoming celebration of the Enterprise–not with synthehol, but with the smell of Tasha’s skin fresh in his mind and the sound of her laugh ringing in his ears. Also, Data realises that he is a particularly weak individual. It is a moment of embarrassing infatuation, and Data buries it deep in his sock drawer when he gets to his quarters and vows not to think about it.

Data’s PADD lights up with a message from  _Tasha_ and his fluids and circuits seem to switch places and he decides that his life might be effectively ruined, thanks to his new crewmate on the Enterprise.

* * *

 

"Are you going to continue hyperventilating at me every day or are you going to ask me on a date already, Data Soong?" Tasha says. It's not like it is Data’s fault Tasha wore those pants that make her waist look fantastic today, and he can hardly be blamed for finding exceedingly difficult to concentrate as a result of it.

"I beg you pardon?" Data says.

"Pick me up at six," Tasha says, and that's that.

He doesn't contemplate bringing the ring. He doesn’t.

It's a whirlwind of _Tasha_ and _Tasha_ and  _Tasha_ from there on out. Their first kiss occurs when they are collecting mineral samples on Andoria and Data’s attempting to tell a funny story about how he used to run naked before his modesty program was installed, and Tasha just leans right over and presses her lips against Data’s.

"Oh," Data says afterward, eyes wide open.

"I only did that to shut you up," Tasha says fondly, and Data isn't sure if he is offended (it really is one of his best stories) or absolutely one-hundred percent in love with Natasha Yar. It's probably the second, because Data digs out the ring as soon as he gets home to make sure it matches Tasha’s skin tone just right.

And, God, he's been a goner since day one.

* * *

 

One year after they meet, Data’s little fascination with possibly marrying Tasha sometime in the future maybe becomes an overwhelming  _marry her marry her marry her_ pounding through his positronic brain, twenty-four seven. It's disgusting, really, that Data comes home and finds Tasha laughing at old Earth action holograms and immediately writes wedding vows in his head, and how when Tasha throws up in the sink after too much Romulan ale with Worf, Data wants nothing more than to say _I do_ , and how Tasha is physically unable to carry her used uniforms from the bedroom floor to the replicator but her laugh still sounds like wedding bells to Data. Absolutely unacceptable. Not healthy, even. Data still wants to marry her though, desperately.

So all there's left to do is ask, and Data’s waiting for his calculations to finally balance out because his decision-making program seems to be malfunctioning since he got himself into such mess.

* * *

 

He's had the ring for two years now. It's actually unbelievable that he hasn't asked Tasha yet, because the question pops into his brain at least twenty times a day. Just last night, he had arrived to his quarters to a sleepy Tasha in bed, who'd mumbled, "If you get any louder, you’ll be sleeping in the bridge for the entire week" after he had made too much noise in the bathroom, and Data’s first thought had been: _Marry me_.

Data is going to dematerialise the ring. Really. He sets it on the replicator pad and glances over at it for almost ten minutes because he is kind of afraid it will explode or vaporise him or something, seeing as it has already caused such a turmoil in Data’s life.

His combadge beeps and Picard’s voice gets him out of his absorption. He really was going to recycle it, he thinks, but he will be running late for the captain’s briefing.

It goes back into his sock drawer, and Data finds a lot of hypothesis not to wear socks after that.

* * *

 

Geordi finds out first, when they’re working on the warp drive propulsors and Data’s hand seems suspiciously stuck to the inside of his pocket.

"What are you hiding in there Data?" he asks casually without taking his eyes off his PADD.

Data freezes, quickly glancing around for a way out. There's the energy conductor, but they're on the upper level of the dilithium chamber, he calculates the height to be exactly 5.8768 meters, and concludes that the fall won't knock him unconscious after all. Geordi has him cornered.

"It is–," Data says. "I am–it is just–"

"Would you just ask her? How do you find it possible to pine from afar while simultaneously dating the girl?" Geordi throws up his hands.

"To pine? Accessing–to want, to desire intensely, to yearn deeply, suffer with longing. Ah!" Data declares suddenly.

" _Yes_ , Data. Try to catch up with me. The truth is, you are totally pining for her to be your wife" Geordi points out. He's a terrible friend, really. Data doesn't know why he continues to keep him around.

"I do not know. I seem to find myself–” Data tilts his head to the side and attempts to find the appropriate adjective. “Afraid, apprehensive, anxious at the thought of a decline on her part," Data sighs.

"She’s not going to say  _no,_  my God. Do you even see the way she looks at you? You two make me sick, really."

Data thinks he might be as close as he could get to blushing and looks down, and feels Geordi’s hand on his shoulder a second later. "Hey. You'll be fine. I swear on my Circassian cat’s grave that she will say yes. Don't go making any assumptions yet."

"Thank you Geordi," Data mumbles. He goes back to his velocity formulations and Geordi leaves with a knowing smile.

* * *

 

Word must have spread out, because Data receives a subscription notice to  _The Marriage Guide_  addressed to him from Counsellor Troi. Data dematerialises the _Seven Principles to Make Marriage Wor_ k before Tasha finds it, and he sets his internal chronometer ten minutes earlier in the morning so he can get to the mail before Tasha intercepts the magazines that will start arriving soon. Data needs better friends, honestly.

* * *

 

"Very interesting suggestion coming from someone who writes blank verse poetry about a waitress whose name he’s too afraid to ask for," Riker comments lightly, and Geordi’s glare could probably kill a lesser man.

"I know her name, _Commander_ ," Geordi says.

"Yeah, because you got it from Guinan, you stalker," Riker laughs.

Normally Data would interrupt the banter with questions after misunderstanding their humour, but he's so goddamn nervous that he has not been able to run his daily diagnostics, or perform calculations, or even think, and god, is he having a panic attack?

"Data, you know that Tasha will say yes," Riker says.

"Do I, Commander?" Data asks, tilting his head to the side, and his voice is actually, legitimately, slightly hysterical. "It took her one month, ten days, eight hours, and three minutes to accept an invitation to dinner. On another occasion, when I requested that she spend the night, she stated that she would give the matter– _a_ _thought_ , and discontinued our meetings for three days, twelve hours, and–"

"Lieutenant Yar has demonstrated aversion to commitment before," Worf says. Out of their friend group, Worf and Tasha are probably the closest, barring Data and Tasha, having shared a bond for holographic battles and hiking adventures at the Academy. They've (mostly) grown out of the phase, but they still refuse to discuss Mok’bara techniques with anyone but each other. "She’s not like that anymore. You've tamed the shrew, and all that." Riker adds.

"Inquiry: Would she accept my proposal in the case I began to malfunction and act, as humans would say– _embarrassingly_ , as I was asking?" Data asks, and the exchange of looks around the table seem to try to decipher whether he might be practicing his humour, maybe.

"I think she’d say yes if you sent her a ring picture to her PADD and a question mark," Geordi says, and he probably means it scathingly but it just comes out sweet.

"Aww," Riker coos, pinching Geordi’s cheek.

Then Christy, the waitress, comes to their table, and Geordi all but slaps Riker away from him and smiles at her like he's constipated.

The situation doesn’t give Data too much hope. He may be more scared than he's ever been since his activation, but he's grateful he doesn't find himself in Geordi's situation.

* * *

 

Christmas gets closer and Riker starts giving Data increasingly dirtier looks. And he’s going to ask her, he really is, but there are gifts to buy and celebrations to plan, and suddenly it is December 26th and there are five messages from Riker on his PADD with the question:  _Did you do it?_ and  _Did you ask her?_ and  _I swear, Data, if you haven’t asked her yet_ and another angry punctuation. Data feels like a failure.

And then there is something inexplicably intimidating about the first month of the New Year, because he has discovered it is all about fresh starts and new beginnings and Data cannot bring himself to fulfil New Year's Resolutions to expertise at humour and also fulfil the Life Resolution to put a ring on it already. And definitely, Data cannot propose in February, because that is Valentine's Day season and Tasha has never responded to romantic gestures as most humans do. So it is March suddenly. Riker has started sending him death threats. Data’s life is a joke.

* * *

 

Dinner. Data has it all planned, all good to go. He calls to triple check the reservations. He calls again after that and the waitress tells him very politely to please _not_ call again unless he wishes to cancel. He also checks that the larger quarters he had seen on deck fourth are still available. And he will do it. It is happening. Data is going to ask her, and based on his hundreds calculations, there is only a thirty-three percent probability Tasha will say no. Which is actually so terrifying Data may be about to overload his circuits, but there is a sixty-seven percent probability that she will say yes, and that’s that. That’s everything.

Data secretly asks Picard for a day-off, feigning a sudden circuit malfunction. He waits until after Tasha has already left for her morning shift, because he doesn't want her to think he might be unwell and cancel the dinner reservations.

"I'll meet you in Ten–Forward at eight, okay?" Tasha says, kissing Data’s forehead on her way out. Data grunts and rolls over in the bed, pretending to be half-asleep even though he had only gotten unconscious for about two hours and ten minutes the whole night.

He spends the day deciding on his outfit and making sure the ring is perfect and practicing his speech in the mirror. He looks like an idiot, as Geordi or Riker would put it in human terms, but the only witness is Spot, and she doesn't appear to be judging him too harshly.

He communicates with both Riker and Geordi, asking them not to tell Tasha that he didn’t report to engineering, and then asking if he can go to one of their quarters around four o'clock, when Tasha is due back home from her shift. Geordi responds that he can use his access code and make himself at home, though he requests that he please not throw up on any of his furniture, leaving Data utterly and completely puzzled.

He ends up leaving his quarters around noon, loading his change of clothes and configuring his location to a private mode before reaching Geordi’s place. He spends the afternoon walking around, panicking in a sort of peaceful way. He knows, logically and mathematically, that Tasha probably won't say no. They've been together five years. They talk about the future all the time. They're going to look into adoption in a few years. It's just–they don't talk about marriage _specifically_  that often. It's mentioned abstractly, but they've never exactly sat down and hashed out the guest list or discussed who's going to walk Tasha down the aisle or what side Captain Picard will stand on. Data’s had it all planned out in his brain since basically the first moment he laid eyes on Tasha, but he's not sappy enough to say that out loud.

He thinks about the first time he met the woman who would become the love of his life, and it's unbelievable, it is, because the first time they met, Data was experimenting with social gatherings _and_ Guinan’s drinks for the first time, while Tasha was just blushing and laughing at the endearing scene in front of her. It was the first week on the Enterprise. Tasha was a bright-eyed lieutenant eager to prove herself and Data was the renamed lieutenant commander from the Trieste. He'd only seen her once before, the day their postings were assigned, but Tasha had been busy trying to help young ensigns down the hall locate their briefing rooms without getting themselves into much trouble, so they hadn't spoken.

So Data was the closest he had ever been to intoxication, and so completely taken aback by the woman’s dimples and delicate, soft features (at a time when he was only vaguely aware that he could be attracted to a human that much) that he spilled the green drink on his uniform. He huffed furiously, locking eyes with Tasha, who raised a single brow.

"How has this occurred? My chip must be malfunctioning," Data muttered, wishing to be sucked out into space so he could spend his entire life floating through the universe to escape this humiliation.

"Well, it looks like someone’s had quite a lot to drink to me," Tasha said softly, offering a half-smile.

Data was literally about to attempt to speak Klingon, to see if the distraction could allow him sometime to manoeuvre his way into some hidden basement underneath the floor, when Tasha turned her full-forced, dimpled, bright smile on him, and all he thought was,  _Oh_.

"Hi," Tasha said.

And Data was a goner. From day one, he'd been borderline obsessed with Tasha, wanting to know everything about the daring, beautiful, independent woman, who was the chief of security from Turkana IV with little to almost no known personal background, who competed on martial arts, and who cordially turned down almost every attempt of flirtation offered to her, thank you very much. Data had started to consider himself capable of physical and romantic attraction, but he hadn't ever been able to picture himself with a specific person until Tasha.

From then on his life was a blur of _Tasha_ , _Tasha_ , _Tasha_. He made friends, of course–lifelong friends, Geordi, Riker, Counsellor Troi, Doctor Crusher, Wesley, and even Captain Picard. Tasha and Data managed to live in each other's pockets without become the quintessential annoying couple who couldn't have other friends. It had just always been so  _good_.

Of course, they fought. Sometimes so bitterly that they wouldn't speak for days, until one of them showed at the others doorstep and tearfully apologised. Tasha had trust issues and Data tended to be overly protective and it wasn't always easy. But every time it got bad, Data would imagine his life without Tasha in it, and that prospect scared him so much he could barely concentrate on what had made him angry in the first place.

Everyone somehow expects them to get married at this point and Data doesn't feel pressured at all; he feels happy. He wants to put a ring on Tasha’s finger and wake up next to her every morning for the rest of his life, and have a hundred babies with her and sit by the grass on the holodeck while Tasha teaches their kids how to hike. He wants to cook Tasha nutritional, balanced food from every planet they have ever visited and catch her replicating ice cream in the middle of the night. He wants to go on long road trips during shore-leaves where they argue about classical music the whole drive. He wants to have tickle fights at two a.m. (even though she’s the only one who laughs) when she is unable to sleep, because they're so in tune with each other that even their sleep patterns mirror each other.

And now amber tears are escaping from his eyes in the middle of a deck hall.

* * *

 

Data arrives at seven–fifty, because he'd overestimated the distance from Geordi’s place to Ten-Forward. He takes their seat at a table toward the back, near the huge window panel overlooking the stars. When he analyses it aesthetically, Ten–Forward is a beautiful place, filled with a pleasant light glow and neutral colours. Data orders a bottle of Tasha’s favourite wine, and when Tasha finally rushes in, five minutes late, he's already poured out two glasses and scratched off most of his right thumb nail.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Tasha gets out in a rush, leaning down to kiss Data on the corner of his mouth before taking the seat across from him. "I had to assist the practice of the young ensigns we have to train this week, and those _fuc_ –kids could _not_ get the movements right, let me tell you."

The date is already terribly romantic.

"Did you get my favourite red?" Tasha asks with a smile. "Aw, Data."

She looks beautiful. She always does, but when she actually makes an effort and puts on a well-fitted dress, it's hard for Data to look at her without his mouth watering. Her fringe is down in the way that Data likes best and her eyes are _so_ , so blue.

The conversation doesn't flow as easily as it usually does, and his legs involuntarily bounce under the table, all jitter, but Data deducts it's only because he's so nervous.

“Data, stop doing that foot thing,” Tasha pats his knee under the table. Data had not realised his whole leg was still tapping up and down. “Are you okay? You look more pensive than usual today. We don’t have to stay for dessert, you know, if you're not feeling well–”

“No!” Data stammers. "No, you are welcome–What I mean, thank you, no, I am functioning adequately. If you will excuse me–bathroom.” Reminiscing his past experiences, Tasha would drag him out of the restaurant and he'd never, ever propose and he'd be alone forever, the ring burning a hole in his pocket until he’s deactivated or destructed. He's not entirely sure how that would all result from leaving the restaurant early, but he's absolutely positive it would.

Data stands up on wobbly legs and manages to get himself to the bathroom before collapsing into an incoherent mess.

"The situation eludes me, sir. I am unable to _do_  this," he whispers into the combadge.

"Yes you can. As your commanding officer, I am ordering you to get it done, _Commander_. Tasha doesn’t want to marry some coward who can't get out four words," Riker barks back at him. "Just four, Data,  _will you marry me._  Say it with me. Will you marry me."

"Will you marry me," Data repeats.

"No. But go ask Tasha the same question and I promise you she will say yes and then kiss your face. Alright?"

"Agreed," Data says weakly.

“Go get your woman, Data,” Riker says before disconnecting.

Data walks back out on what would be considered shaky legs in human standards, and as soon as Tasha sees him she stands up. “We're going home, you look like you're going to have breakdown,” she announces.

“No–”

“C'mon, Data, we can replicate the dessert in your quarters.” Tasha takes his hand and starts leading him away.

“Tasha–“

“It's fine, c'mere, let's get you home.”

Data is so in love with her, but the ring is still in his pocket and  _oh god this is not how this was supposed to go._

Tasha accidentally slides her hand near Data’s thigh, just a few inches below the bulge from the box, as she embraces him. Data wants to cry. Embarrassingly enough, he actually does.

“Hey, hey,” Tasha fusses as they stand outside his quarters. “What's the matter?”

“I do not–Tasha, I cannot–this is exceedingly difficult,” Data babbles.

“What is it, Data?” Tasha asks, obviously concerned. Data does not blame her, he's pretty concerned and puzzled about himself at the moment.

“The–I want–the quarters will–“.

“C'mon, Data, let's get you to bed." Tasha guides him inside with an arm steady around his waist. “Shh, it's okay, calm down.”

At the sight of Spot (who was, in fact, a girl), Data bursts into fresh tears. Tasha sits him down on the bed and takes off his shoes and pants and jacket and button down until he is left in his undershirt and boxers and socks. Data knows for a fact that the box with the ring in it is somewhere in the pocket of those pants on the floor.

“Try to sleep now, okay? You're really freaking me out, Data, activate your dream program,” Tasha says, tucking him in under the covers.

“I am sorry,” Data mumbles. Now that Tasha mentions it, his positronic net might be about to go into cascading failure from the stress.

“Go on, I'll be here when you wake up,” Tasha promises.

 _And that might be what being married is, really,_  is Data’s last thought before he falls unconscious.

* * *

 

His internal clock says three–fifty a.m. when Data wakes up. Going to bed so early probably didn't help his unusual sleep pattern. Tasha is breathing softly next to him, arm around Data’s waist protectively even though his construction makes him the bigger one. Tasha has always been the one looking after Data. And Data inexplicably, madly, terribly, wants to marry her. He feels sick just thinking about it, how he had an absolutely unnecessary malfunction instead of just _asking her._

There is no way in hell he was activating his dream program again. Data rolls out from under Tasha and shuffles to the main room. He replicates a glass of water and sits at his desk and silently reproaches himself for being such a wimp.

And Tasha is just. She is everything Data did not know he always needed and wanted, and ever will want, and the only thing Data needs now is to say the four words.

"Data?” Tasha stands in the doorway, squinting against the dimmed lights, her hair sticking up in all directions, soft and tired in her pajama pants and one of Data’s long sleeved shirts.

"Marry me," Data blurts before he can think of anything else.

Tasha blinks. "Okay," She says, like it has always been that simple. Data formulates that maybe it has.

It takes a few moments to process what just happened though, and Tasha is still standing there looking like the most wonderful thing Data has ever seen, and Data is unsure whether he might have begun to malfunction again.

"What," Data stares up at Tasha.

"Okay," Tasha repeats. "Jesus, is this what's been bothering you? Because I would've said yes, you know. Probably would've said yes on the first date. Somehow it's always been my intention to marry you, Data Soong, and I can't believe you thought for a second that after five years I'd–"

Data cuts her off when he picks her up in a hug. "Tasha," he breathes, sagging against Tasha with exhaustion and  _relief,_  and he is so happy he thinks his circuits will burst out of his chest.

"You silly," Tasha says into Data’s neck.

"Tasha," Data says again. "My intention was to pose the question last night, I assure you. I have had the ring since the day of our first encounter, it is secured inside one of my pockets. If you would allow me, I could find it now, only if you wish. I, I love you, I–"

Tasha moves close enough to take his head between her hands. "Blabbermouth,” she whispers, softly kissing both of his cheeks and then his nose. "And don't start crying on me again, I had enough of that during your nervous breakdown," Tasha teases.

It's too late. Data sniffles and Tasha rolls her eyes but beams at him with so much fondness that Data’s knees nearly buckle.

"The day we met?" Tasha asks. Her eyes are so bright Data can't get his fluids to circulate properly.

"Yes," he says breathlessly.

Tasha kisses him again, both of her arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer, and Data thinks he might actually explode.

"I love you too, even though you're absolutely by far the silliest person I've ever known," Tasha murmurs against his lips.

And yeah, Data can live with that.


End file.
